The Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe Redux
by homeric
Summary: A different take on the fairytale...


**Disclaimer: Nothing that you recognise belongs to me.**

**This is a bit AU in that it's set after the KA film but none of the knights died. Any OC's are just for this fic - they aren't anything to do with anything else I've written in this fandom.**

The first time that Bors didn't return from the tavern with her, Vanora was confused. The second, annoyed. The third time she had been angry, but he had kissed her and told her not to be upset - he just had a lot of things on his mind. It was the fourth time that truly worried her.

Bors's excuse that he wasn't tired when he saw her safely home after closing up the tavern was unusual, but, shrugging her shoulders and opening the door to the little cottage that they shared, she had been too tired to do little more than a swift headcount of her children before flopping on the straw mattress and falling asleep. Bors was there beside her when she awoke, but for once he didn't take advantage of the quiet hour before dawn to take advantage of _her._

Unsettled, she had fed and milked the cow and the chickens before feeding her own brood. The big knight had joined them for breakfast, although as it was raining they could not eat outside where they had enough space to sit together; the youngest children swarming over their father and giving Bors the excuse that God had made him bald because otherwise he would have spent all his time combing dropped porridge from his hair. Instead they had sat cramped and irritable, spread amongst the four small rooms; the older children bad-tempered because they would be toiling in the fields ankle deep in mud, the younger sulking because their brothers and sisters refused to smile or join their games. It would have been alright, Vanora had thought to herself, if only the man she loved- husband in all but name - had made one of his usual jokes to lighten the mood, or crinkled his merry brown eyes at her in the way that even after so many years together made her feel like a girl of seventeen anticipating her first kiss.

But he hadn't. He had eaten, patted her on the shoulder absently as though she were one of the serving girls at the tavern and left with barely a goodbye to the children. They hadn't really noticed, and Vanora pushed her unease to the back of her mind. Even after Arthur had been crowned and the country settled into some semblance of peace the knights were kept as busy as ever. _Bors was just preoccupied with whatever task his king had set him_, she told herself, trying to ignore the fact that he had always spoken freely to her about his assignments before. The tavern was as busy as always when she arrived there, and it took her mind off any vague worries. There was an argument when Imogen dropped an entire tray of drinks onto the lap of a soldier who had tried to put his hand up her skirt, an uncomfortable incident whereby the boy who had been sent to collect the meat for the evening's stew arrived with an armful of very alive, very vexed rabbits, and a small, thankfully quickly extinguished, fire. Waiting in the doorway of the tavern, watching the moon rise and the bats flicker across it's cold, calm light, Vanora watched Bors approach. Even cloaked in shadow she would have known him anywhere. The confident thud of his footsteps, the solid bulk of him. Oh he had his faults - hadn't she threatened to leave him a dozen times? He was uncouth, he had none of Lancelot's fancy words nor Tristan's grace. She gave a grin at the last thought. From one of the ramparts high above a shadow moved, but she pretended not to notice. She knew that the scout kept an eye out for her when Bors was not around, just as Tristan knew just who baked the apple tart that Beth, her youngest and prettiest serving girl served to him. Sweet secrets, and harmless. Vanora hadn't told Bors about the scout's thoughtfulness - the only secret that she kept from the man she loved. In turn she knew that he kept nothing from her. When, huge with child, with swollen ankles and lank hair he told her that she was beautiful she believed him. When he told her that he loved her and she saw the truth of it in his eyes, she smiled back and told him that her heart was his.

So when he kissed her tiredly, as though it were a duty rather than a joy, her heart sank. Trying not to turn into an interrogator, she asked him how his day had been and recounted the mishaps of her own. He smiled, said the right things, but Vanora could tell that his heart wasn't in it, and when they got home he kissed her on the forehead and was asleep within a minute, even though the children were asleep and her hand had strayed teasingly below the blanket that covered them.

The next morning was no better, although the weather had decided, in what Vanora thought was mockery by the Gods, to be as sunny and warm as the heaven that Arthur had described. Shoving a piece of bread into the hand of Seven as he bolted out the door, she looked wearily at the chaos that her children had left. Bors had left before she had woken up, something that he had never done before. He hadn't wanted to touch her, he hadn't really listened to her in weeks. Something was on his mind, and from subtle probing disguised as friendly chatter at the tavern, she knew that it wasn't anything to do with Arthur's orders or his fellow knights. That left only one answer.

Pulling up the bucket from the well behind the chicken coop, Vanora studied her reflection in the water. Even the ripples on the water's surface couldn't disguise the wrinkles that bracketed her eyes and mouth, the shadows that were smudged dark as bruises beneath her eyes. She wasn't the brazen, beautiful girl who had come to Hadran's Wall anymore, she thought sadly. She had borne children that she loved more than her own life, done her best to keep dignity and reputation in keeping a tavern where women, where they were found, were looked upon as little more than whores. But she was no longer a beauty, and she was no longer young. And she no longer held the heart of the man she loved.

Automatically, she cleaned the house. It was too small for the half of them all, but there had never been enough money to move. For once Vanora was sorry for its lack of size, for cleaning calmed her somewhat and it was finished all too quickly. Sitting down on the bed where she and Bors had so often lain entwined she wondered who his lover could be. Not Beth; she had her eye on Tristan, not Imogen, for she had caught her mooning after a handsome guard more than once, and besides, she could not imagine either girl betraying her like that. Perhaps it was one of the trollops who flaunted themselves in the darker corners of the back alleys, Vanora thought with uncharacteristic spite. _Let them have him, _she thought, suddenly determined. Getting up, she stormed out of her house and headed towards the fort where, no doubt Bors was currently regaling his fellow knights with tales of his new conquest. Bors might break her heart, make her feel like she was being torn apart, but she was damned if she'd let him know that, and damned if she'd sit there and let what was probably the whole fort gossip about how stupid she had been not to notice his infidelity.

Walking down the path that beside Hadrian's wall, she noticed several young girls watch her and whisper none too discretely amongst themselves. Obviously she was now the subject of the gossip that flew around the tavern faster than the swallows that nested in its rafters. Humiliation fuelling her anger, Vanora barged past the guards positioned at the entrance of the fort and charged up the stairs two at a time. She'd only seen the king's meeting chamber once, when Bors had shown her the now legendary round table, but it wasn't hard to find. Shoving open the door, she squared her shoulders, faced the stunned knights, the king who she admired and respected, her love who looked at her as though one of the pigs outside had suddenly risen up and started speaking , and found herself utterly at a loss for words. Furious, embarrassed, and not a little panicked, Vanora looked for a suitable weapon, and finding none hitched her skirt up, slid off her shoe and hurled it at Bors. Her throw went wide by several feet, but she ignored Gawain's yelp as the coat of arms she had knocked off the wall narrowly missed decapitating him.

"Don't come home," she snarled with as much dignity as she could muster. "Stay with your doxy if she'll have you, but don't think I'll take you back. Eleven kids I've carried for you! Eleven! No more." Glaring at Bors fiercely she turned with as much grace as a woman only wearing one shoe could muster. "You're on your own, and with any luck the bitch that's warming your bed will have more sense than me." Storming unevenly out of the room, Vanora ran down the stairs and vanished into the crowd in the courtyard before Bors or any of the other stunned knights had a chance to catch her. Deciding not to go home as she really wasn't in the mood for excuses and the children wouldn't be wanting dinner for another few hours, she tucked herself against the back of a hay barn and bawled her eyes out, much to her shame and the alarm of several nearby field mice.

Dinner that evening was a subdued affair. Her eldest three boys were sharing dinner with friends, the rest picking up on her subdued mood and being uncharacteristically helpful when it came to clearing up. They left the house in a pack , ostensibly to pick blackberries, but more likely to climb trees and re- create the battle against the Saxons with sticks instead of swords, Vanora thought wryly. Not that she blamed them; she wasn't in the mood for thinking up funny stories or playing games.

Bors hadn't returned - not that she had expected him to. She'd done some stupid things in her time, but today had really taken the biscuit. For the fiftieth time she replayed the afternoon's events. Arthur was a kind man and probably wouldn't hang her for her utterly ridiculous display of temper, but, Vanora thought unhappily, perhaps it might be kinder if he did. She could take the humiliation, endure the whispers, even bear the shame of acting like a jilted teenager if Bors had told her that she was wrong - indeed done anything other than looked at her with baffled incredulity.

Carefully she washed the plates, fed the livestock and straightened the blankets on the beds. Her own bed mocked her with its tidy expanse of empty space, so she sat on Three's instead, watching her shadow lengthen inch by inch as the sun went down.

A knock from outside shook Vanora out of her light doze, and it took several moments before she scrambled off the bed and got herself together enough to unlatch the door. Imogen stood on the doorstep, her blue eyes narrowing when she met the reddened ones of her employer.

"Van?" the young serving girl asked hesitantly. "I'm sorry to be a bother, but I didn't know who else to ask. It's Beth, she's really sick, and I don't know what to do."

"Find one of the healers?" Vanora asked wearily. Despite her tone worry outweighed any annoyance and she picked up her shawl.

"Dagonet's out hunting and Marcus and his apprentice are with Molly - her babe's coming." Imogen gave a half smile as she saw that any more explanations wouldn't be needed; Vanora looked upon the girls she employed as family, and healer or no healer, she would want to make sure that they were taken care of when they were sick.

"Typical," Vanora muttered. "Lead the way lass, I'll have a look at her."

Nodding, Imogen made her way towards around the side of the great wall, towards the little cluster of cottages that huddled as though still frightened of Woads in valley near the forest. Vanora was preoccupied, and so did not think to question the path that they had taken, but after walking for ten minutes, she looked at her guide quizzically.

"You've gone the wrong way, Imogen." Finally taking notice of her surroundings, Vanora realised that they were at the edge of the forest, only an old farm track that led nowhere before them. "I must be going soft in the head - we should have taken the last path on the right. Haven't you been to Beth's house before?"

Even as the girl blushed and lowered her eyes Vanora realised that something was wrong. How could Imogen have known that Beth was ill if she didn't even know where she lived?

"Look.." Imogen dropped her head, uncomfortably aware that she was breaking several promises. "I love you Van," she said honestly to the red haired woman who had taken her under her wing several years ago. "I honestly do. But you're a bloody idiot."

It took a moment for the words to make sense to Vanora, but when they registered she faltered, torn between anger and shock that the girl she called friend would rub her nose in her humiliation. Obviously this was where Bors's mistress lived.

"Imogen.."

"No." The blonde girl put her hands up stubbornly and spoke before Vanora could cut in. "Go down that track," her head nodded towards the farm track. "Come back and apologise later." Defiantly, she placed her hands upon her hips, daring her employer to argue.

Vanora, tired and heartsick, couldn't be bothered to. Fighting with Imogen wouldn't achieve anything, and perhaps seeing Bors with his mistress might make things better. Certainly it would be easier to hate him and his lover than battle this empty, lost feeling that had taken residence within her heart. Walking slowly down the dirt track , she tried to think of witty, cutting things to say, but for once her tongue which had cut more than a few Romans down to size felt too big in her mouth, her mind muddy and confused. The big house at the end of the path was empty and obviously a work in progress. Half the roof wasn't finished and the stone walls were bright with the sheen that would fade as soon as Briton's damp weather dusted them with moss. It wasn't the lover's nest that she had expected to find, indeed the place seemed completely uninhabitable. Looking around and finding no other residences nearby, Vanora almost turned around and returned to Imogen, when a snore broke the silence. Vanora froze. She would have recognized that snore anywhere. Creeping around a bramble bush, she looked at the man sleeping beneath it with mixed emotions.

Bors was laid flat upon his back , sturdy limbs flopped upon the long grass. In one hand he held an axe, in the other the shoe that she had thrown at him earlier. Stepping on a twig, Vanora winced as the noise awakened the slumbering knight.

"'lo, Van," he said quietly, opening his eyes and regarding her tiredly. "Come to chuck the other shoe at me?"

"I left it at home," she said automatically. Glancing around, she was utterly bemused. She had expected Bors to be half naked in a farmers cottage with a girl half her age wrapped around him. Instead he was sleeping alone in what looked like a building site. Turning her attention back to Bors, she watched in confusion as he got to his feet and nodded to the half finished house.

"What do you think?" he asked quietly.

"Think?" Vanora looked at Bors, the question she had been about to ask dying on her lips as she met his eyes and realised that she'd read the situation completely wrong.

"You don't have a mistress do you?" she asked quietly.

"No." His voice was steady but he did not look at her.

"You built this, didn't you?"

"Me and the others."

Looking at the sturdy house, Vanora took in the clean lines of the walls, the well that had been painstakingly dug out and built by the side of the building. No wonder Bors had been tired: even with help he must have laboured for hours after his duties finished to have done so much.

"It was going to be a surprise, wasn't it," she said in a small voice.

Bors chuckled wearily. "Not as much of a surprise as having your shoe chucked at my head," he said, squeezing Vanora's shoulder. "I'll have to give you lessons - your aim is terrible. Imagine if you'd whacked Arthur on the head."

"Not the most poetic of endings to our noble king," Vanora agreed, laying her head upon Bors's shoulder. "Even the brightest minstrel would have trouble making a sonnet out of that." For a moment she relaxed against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek, the solid warmth that made her feel as though there was nothing in the world that could hurt them because of the simple fact that she loved him and he loved her. "Sorry", she said quietly. "I was so afraid that I'd lost you."

She felt rather than heard the rumble of laughter that echoed through his chest.

"Lose me? You'd be lucky - now you know how I feel when I watch all those soldiers drool over you at the tavern." Turning her gently, Bors kissed Vanora's lips, cheeks and nose. "This is our house. Yours."

Vanora giggled, light-hearted as the girl she had once been. Running up to the half built building, she traced her hands over the rough stone walls and peered up at the darkening sky through the slats of the half finished roof. Bounding back to her knight who had watched her with a proud and somewhat relieved smile, Vanora took the shoe from Bors's hand and placed it on the lintel above the doorway.

"Better than a horseshoe," she said seriously. "I don't need to be reminded that I'm lucky, just that I have you and the kids."

"Shoe cottage," Bors muttered, following Vanora inside. "I suppose it's memorable.." Eyes widening at the sight of his red-haired temptress sliding her dress from her shoulders and pressing her still beautiful body against his, Bors kissed the love of his life deeply. "Shoe cottage, " he murmured. "It's already going to have more kids than we know what to do with. Wouldn't hurt to try for a couple more…"

Laying her down, neither Bors nor Vanora were aware of the moon rising outside, nor the shadowy figure of Tristan who tugged a somewhat reluctant Imogen from her hiding place behind a bramble patch. _Some people were just born to love and irritate the stuffing out of each other, _the scout thought wearily, taking the girl home before making his way to Beth's quarters. Lucky for Bors that the east wall wasn't yet finished; he wouldn't be at all surprised to find that there might be a need for extra bedrooms before the year was out….

**A/N: Finally the "fairytale redux" series is finished! (and a good job too, since I was running out of fairytales). If anyone fancies using the idea then by all means go ahead, I had a lot of fun writing these stories, and thankyou very much to everyone who read them :)**


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